Page 5 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

“I smelled blood, okay?” I shifted a little, hoping to ease the stinging, but that just made it worse. “So I went up there to check it out.”

Cal stared at me, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cam …,” he sighed. “Do you know how that would have looked? What would have happened? You’re lucky Bobby didn’t send you home in a body bag.”

I scoffed, partially to hide another wince as I pulled the towelaway. We both looked at the wound in my shoulder. Cal nodded. “We’re gonna need someone to patch you up.”

I grimaced, thinking about what Marnie, the local doctor, would have to say about this. I looked at the wound again. “Dunno. Might heal up.”

Cal snorted. “Sure. We’re shifters and all, but that’s too big.”

Did he have to be right about everything? I sighed, sliding off the counter. I tugged my shirt back on, wincing when I had to rotate my shoulder. Cal just went on frowning at me.

Finally, he sighed and turned away. “Anyway, hope this’ll be a lesson to you—stay away from Lam’s place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, grateful that he stood aside to let me leave the room.

“And stick close by here the next few days,” he said. “Don’t need anyone asking questions, least of all Bobby Lam.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just say I sprained it baling hay or something.”

Cal rolled his eyes skyward. “It’s nottimeto bale hay,” he returned, and I almost laughed.

“Point is, I’m sure I can come up with an excuse that doesn’t involve admitting to the whole town I’m a shifter who was nosing around and got himself shot.”

Cal said nothing to that, merely looking up at the ceiling as though asking God for more patience. Relenting, I said, “But I’ll stick close for the next few days, at least.”

He blew out a breath. “And no shifting.”

I wanted to argue—the full moon was close and I loved running on moonlit nights—but I knew I’d only piss him off more. “No shifting,” I agreed. I tried rolling my shoulder. “’Sides, it’d probably hurt like hell.”

Cal shook his head, but he said nothing more as he stomped off. I waited a few minutes, then headed upstairs to my room. It was late, and I needed to sleep if I wanted this shoulder to heal up ina timely manner.

I was woken not by the crowing of the rooster but by a steady knocking on the front door. I flipped the covers off my head, squinting at the morning sunlight coming in through my east-facing window. I’d forgotten to shut the curtains last night.

I tried to roll my way up, remembering too late that I’d been shot. Pain lanced through me, and I flopped back to the bed, grinding my teeth and gripping my shoulder.

I heard Cal tromp through the hall. Shifter hearing was sometimes a curse; I could hear the floorboards squeaking, even though I imagined a normal human being wouldn’t have.

“Can I help you?” my brother asked as he pulled the door open.

“Uh … hi.” The voice seemed familiar, and I pricked my metaphorical ears forward. Slowly, I rolled up to sitting. “This might seem weird, but I, uh, just wanted to let you know that there might be a wounded coyote somewhere around your property.”

“Oh?” Cal’s voice lilted up with amusement, and I could just picture the bastard’s smug face.

“Uh, yeah. I dunno if you heard anything, but a coyote got shot last night over at Bobby Lam’s.”

“Did it now?”

“But he didn’t kill it, just got it in the shoulder. It took off.”

“Pity,” Cal said. “Damn thing probably needs to be put out of its misery.”

That’s it, I thought, pushing up off the bed and grabbing my shirt. I’d placed the voice now—the scrawny white guy who was with Bobby and Vern last night.

“Er, yeah,” the guy agreed. “I, um, was trying to track it, and, uh … the blood led pretty much up to your back door and thenstopped.”

Ah, fuck. I hustled downstairs. “What’s going on, Cal?”

My brother and the guy turned to face me as I emerged into the foyer. I sauntered to a stop near the door, leaning on the doorframe. It allowed me to hide my bum arm, but it also gave me a great view of the new guy.